


Navigational Aids

by genarti



Category: Steerswoman Series - Rosemary Kirstein
Genre: Epistolary, Friendship, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 13:34:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5418959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genarti/pseuds/genarti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the weeks after <i>The Language of Power</i>, Rowan and Willam keep in touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Navigational Aids

**Author's Note:**

  * For [schneefink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/schneefink/gifts).



> Thanks to schneefink for a really fun prompt, and the chance to write in a beloved fandom! And, as so often, thanks to Ryfkah for betaing.

_From Attise, aboard the cargo ship_ Graceful Days _, to Sala, care of the Harbormaster, Wulfshaven_

Dear Rowan and Bel,

No news to report except that I'm still alive and well, and with no news to report. That seemed worth writing. I'll keep this brief, though. So far as most of the crew are concerned, I have a sweetheart in Wulfshaven named Sala (sorry, Bel). I've left her to make something of myself, but I'm pining terribly, and writing to her in all my spare moments. Some of that writing is a logbook of sorts -- nothing like a steerswoman's, I suspect, just small notes to myself -- but it would look strange if I never sent off any of the letters, after all.

Would you believe that I'd only been aboard a ship once in my life? A real ship on the Inland Sea, I mean, not just a barge or a brief stop aboard to pick up cargo in the harbor. I took a ship along the way a few months ago, and that was it. So this has been a swift education. That part's wonderful. I never knew how much I didn't know about ships. That is, I knew it was plenty, but you never really know until you've started to learn. It's been a long while since I was in such a haze of new terminology and new rules. I've been assured that I walk like a sailor now. That should please you, Rowan.

The captain suspects who I'm writing to. He mentioned the last time I was being teased -- it was at a little party on deck, someone brought out an accordion and someone else had pipes and whoever wasn't mending nets at the moment had a bit of a dance, so it was be teased for my mending or be teased for my dancing or be teased for my pining away -- that he thought he'd met my Sala in port once, and she was a woman worth pining over. Later he told me to pass on a hello to her if I thought it proper. So, Captain Gregori sends his best to you both.

All my love,  
Willam

 

 _From Attise, aboard the cargo ship_ Graceful Days _, to Sala, care of the Harbormaster, Wulfshaven_

Dear Rowan and Bel,

A wizard's man tried to come on board the _Days_ in Coopertown. 

I don't _think_ it was targeted. I recognized him for what he was by the link he was wearing around his neck. It was masked as an ordinary pendant, but I've seen the design before. And you can tell because a link has to be at least a two centimeters tall or wide, and has to have recesses on its surface for speakers and projection and sensory input. You can cover them up, but then you have to have some kind of a panel that lifts up to reveal them, and that adds bulk too. No one had bothered with that for this one, so they weren't trying that hard to keep it hidden, and it was hanging right out in front of his shirt. Not very obvious under ordinary circumstances, but not what you'd wear for all the world to see if you were trying to follow a wizard's runaway apprentice. Or a Steerswoman, for that matter. The captain said we were full up, and wouldn't budge on that. So he shrugged and went on to another ship. Not a lot of arguing, just “I can pay my way, and I don't mind sleeping on deck. I have urgent business in the Crags,” and Captain Grigori didn't soften – we really are full, too. He boarded the _Jenny Waves_ , by the way, a sloop out of Southport. That's all I know about it or its route. And that was that.

Bel, Rowan, be _careful_.

PS. I'm writing this only a few hours after passing off my last letter to the Harbormaster in Coopertown, but we're already under sail, and I won't be able to post this until the Crags, at least a week away. I knew this was going to be frustrating -- and at least we can write this time -- but it makes me want to tear my hair out. Good thing it's still just stubble.

 

 _To Attise, aboard the cargo ship_ Graceful Days _, delivered by the Harbormaster of the Crags. No sender marked._

Dear Willam,

I trust it's safe to mention your name in a letter. I admit to a moment of paranoia, but I know you would have said if there were cause to take more precautions than we already are. You taught me so much, but still sometimes I feel as if I'm adrift in a fog when it comes to the practicalities.

Right now the two of us are where we were headed the last time you and I saw each other. We'll be here a few more days, although I'm sure we'll be back on the road by the time you read these words. As you know, there are several reasons to be on the road, and several reasons to be elsewhere than here also. But for a few more days, the reasons to stay outweigh them. And so we stay. Discreetly, I assure you. I haven't gone outside since I arrived; neither of us have. It seemed safer. That might be more paranoia, but I do know enough to know that it might not be.

Someday I hope you'll be able to come here. You'd be a welcomed guest, I hope you know. I would love to share it with you. If my heart has a single home, it's here. You'll understand if you see it, I think. It's the work, and the love of the work, and the living of one's life for this work.

I've taught everyone everything I learned twice over. They have my logbooks too, and they're being copied as a top priority. The first versions have already been sent out. That's a principle of the Steerswomen: duplicate, distribute, archive. And another principle: there is always more to recall. One can't always grasp it -- trying to grasp it, head-on, rarely works so well as circling round, anyway -- but one can try to coax it out, if it's worth enough. So I'm writing out everything I can think of to do with certain events again, from scratch. Perhaps it will help someone at some point. Bel is doing the same, by dictation. I'll be very interested to read it when I get a chance. Her perspective is always valuable, and always interesting, and her way with words is a poet's -- very different from mine.

She sends her love. I quote: "I'm not done being angry at him yet, but tell him I send my love all the same."

I don't truly think that anyone will read a word of this. I very much hope not. But it seems foolhardy all the same to write so openly that anyone passing and nosy will know exactly where to bring some interesting news. So I circle. And then I fret about circling. I'm truly not good at deception. As you know -- Attise!

I hope you're well aboard the _Days_. I know they're good people. That's the most important thing -- anywhere, I think, but certainly on a ship, where everyone's jostling elbows all the time, especially belowdecks. I haven't received any letters from you yet, but I didn't truly expect to, even if I hoped. I suspect one is in transit. I wonder how many I'll have received, and how many other letters I'll have written, by the time you see this? Too many variables to estimate with any degree of certainty, although one could hazard a guess. When next we see each other, we could consult my log and your memory -- or your log? Would you call it a record, or is that only for something else? I've realized that I never asked you if you keep any kind of log of your own. 

I've gone off track. I was going to say that we could figure it out if for any reason it seemed relevant to do so. But I don't know any reason right now to think that it would be.

Did I ever tell you that I didn't use to believe in magic? For a great many years I was extremely skeptical. It seemed to me that there was nothing that magic had been truly demonstrated to do, in my experience, that wasn't explained as easily by natural phenomena and/or superstition. Then I was compelled by evidence to accept its existence: first by a sailor who showed me that he and I were immune to the guard-spell of a box, while Bel found it immediately by the discomfort of touching it, and then by further encounters with the work of wizards. An encounter with a good-hearted young man offering undeniable proofs of his own, as well. And now it seems in a way that I've come full circle: I have no doubt, and yet the fundamental assertion is similar. Only my definitions of natural phenomena have expanded.

Willam, I ought to get back to my work. I only stopped because Bel came to stand over me and insist upon lunch and a break, and of course she was right. But I do hope you're well. I suppose that's the real thesis of this entire rambling letter. We're both well; we both hope you are.

Love,  
Rowan

PS. My best to Captain Grigori and Enid and Jonathan. I would give my best to all the rest as well, if only they knew that I knew you.

 

 _From Attise, aboard the cargo ship_ Graceful Days _, to Sala, care of the Harbormaster, Wulfshaven._

Dear Rowan,

I got your letter at the Crags. I'm sure you've moved on by now, but I'll keep writing to this address until you tell me otherwise. 

The crew is still teasing me about my devotion to Sala, since I write her so often. It's become an old joke, less fun but more well-worn – that's our Attise, mooning over his sweetheart again. (A good bit of that is my log, you see -- yes, I do keep one. Wizards keep records in a very different way, though it's common enough for it to be in daily words just like this. But I never quite lost the habit of writing with pen and paper. They'd probably call this a diary, although they'd admit that it's a kind of record too; if you want more detail about the terminology I'll have to backtrack to explain some more about their usual usage.) Anyway, as far as anyone here needs to know, Attise is writing his dear Sala and agonizing over every sentence so much he never sends half the letters. I've had to make up a few more details to amuse them. I kept her quite different from either of you. I was nearly tempted to give her green hair and crossed eyes! Instead she's plump and effusive, with skin as dark as Joly's. Captain Grigori nearly laughed, but Enid agreed that she sounded like quite a catch, and said she wouldn't get sunburned on deck. Always thinking of relevant matters, our Enid.

I guess there isn't a lot of point to this letter, really. I could just wait to see if you send me other directions for reaching you, and you don't need to know all the details of my cover story. But I find myself wanting to write you all the same. I think it's because last time, we couldn't write. You were off wandering, and I was forbidden to tell you nearly anything. I could have sent a note saying hello and very little else to some Harbormaster to hold for a few years until you saw it, but what would have been the point of that? Now I can write whatever I like, so long as I hide it a little, and so I want to. It's something that isn't just another goodbye.

Now I'm just whining, and being maudlin to boot. I'm sorry. It's been a long day, with a squall all last night. Here's something more cheerful: I'm learning to judge the wind. Very much still learning, mind. The wizards have instruments that will watch the wind and tell you its speed and direction with precise measurements, but sailors use a very different way of thinking. It's all a matter of the effect on the sails and the ocean. Wizards care about the effect too, of course, but they categorize it with numbers first. The sailors only cares if it's a soft breeze or a moderate one, and from what quarter, and so on. It's fascinating. I have the equations in the back of my head all the same – Rowan, you'll understand.

Rowan, I'm sure you know all of this and more already. Call it a report on the student's progress. I'd ask if I'm satisfactory, but I don't think Enid would let me be otherwise. Not to mention Captain Grigori, who leaves most of the student-scolding to Enid but runs a tight ship, no mistake. Bel, if there's anything you want to know more about -- well, you can ask Rowan, of course, and find out without waiting a month for the answer. But anyway.

We saw a dolphin yesterday. Karol spotted it first, but it followed the ship for nearly an hour. We all got to watch it dancing through our wake, leaping again and again. And then it breached, which is a term I hadn't heard before -- breaching the surface of the water, I suppose? Very evocative. It's not the first time we've seen one, of course, but it's the longest time a solitary dolphin has accompanied us for so long. I'm told it's a good omen. Here's hoping.

All my love,  
Willam

 

 _To Attise, aboard the cargo ship_ Graceful Days _, from Sala in Wulfshaven, delivered by the Harbormaster of the Crags._

Dear Willam,

I got your last three letters all in a bundle at Wulfshaven. Yes, keep writing to me under this name here. I'm moving on, but we'll have the Harbormaster route them -- there are certain routing signs the Steerswomen use -- and it's easier for everyone than having you send letters here and there. You could duplicate if you like, although I'm not sure it will be much faster, but I'll ask for letters for Sala whenever I'm at a port. Relatedly, I should say that I'm sending this letter to several destinations. You may get it more than once. I'll do that in the future if I can, and if it seems any faster. That's not an indication of particular urgency for this letter, except that I wish we could be in better communication.

Thank you for the warning about the man in Coopertown. I don't know what to make of it either. It might easily be only coincidence, completely unrelated to any of us. We're certainly in a state to jump at shadows. But then again it might be related to us. I don't know enough about Abremio to know why a wizard's man (and whose?) might be making an urgent visit to him – and none of us know what the chain of information here is. I don't suppose there's much we can do about it anyway. He must have arrived at the Crags and done whatever he set out to do, and maybe moved on again, before I even got your letter. We'll keep our eyes open. As if we weren't doing that anyway! But all the same. It's good to know, and perhaps the information will be helpful later.

I know there's no way to communicate with something like a link without a terrible risk of discovery, even if you had one. Still, it would be convenient.

I had a very interesting talk with Artos in Wulfshaven. I was able to reassure him about your welfare, by the way. He's trustworthy, and has no love for wizards, and he was very concerned for the apprentice I'd asked him to look after. He now knows more of the situation than most.

I didn't see Corvus, nor seek him out. I didn't know whether to expect him to seek me out; I don't know what to deduce from the fact that he didn't. Will, we spend time each letter saying _be careful and take care of yourself_ , which is both uselessly vague and an unnecessary injunction to the obvious, but I find myself wanting to say it again. Be careful, Willam, and take care. 

The student is learning admirably! Please do feel free to keep telling me all about what you're learning. It's of interest. Learning always is, you know. Teaching requires one to organize one's thoughts, that's a reason. Hearing about a student's lessons and epiphanies can often inspire one to make new connections between familiar facts or learn of new ways to do something, that's another. And I care about you -- that's a third. I'm glad to hear of your happiness. I hope very much that that's the accurate word, at least sometimes.

All my love,  
Rowan

PS. This is Bel. Ive forgivin you but dont do it agen. Its good yore well so mayk sure you stay that way.


End file.
